


Fathers, Sons and Lovers

by MakeItMagnificent



Category: Queer as Folk (UK)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Humor, M/M, Romance, Sexual Violence, Slash, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 01:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakeItMagnificent/pseuds/MakeItMagnificent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathan messes up with unforeseen consequences for Stuart and Vince ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fathers, Sons and Lovers

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this, I do love writing stories for our Stuart and Vince, but please note ALL the tags before reading. And also, many many many thanks to QDS for all her beta-ing! xx

Mr Jones stood by himself, resisting the temptation to check his watch for the umpteenth time. He could just pinpoint his wife across the sea of dancers standing on some stairs with Hazel Tyler. He sighed. The club on this Saturday night was heaving with people with music thudding in his ears. To add to his discomfort, he felt a bead of sweat slide down his back. His son was a few feet away talking to Vince and he watched as Stuart leant over to give him a quick kiss on the mouth. Mr Jones found himself unable to look away, gripped by confusion and he'd have to admit, no small amount of revulsion.  
  
To his right, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed he was being watched by a tall, blond young man with a cheeky smirk. This young man then squared his shoulders, lifted his head and sauntered over towards him. Mr Jones sighed again as he earnestly hoped the boy wouldn't actually speak to him.  
  
'Hi there.'  
  
'Hello,' replied Mr Jones, eyeing him awkwardly.  
  
'He's nice, isn't he,' said the young man, flashing him a winning smile and jerking his head in Stuart's direction.  
  
Not knowing what to say, Mr Jones simply answered, 'Yes. Yes, he is.'  
  
'He's spoken for now, they're practically an old married couple,' the young man continued, sighing dramatically.  
  
Mr Jones nodded in response. He wished this person would leave him alone; he wished that time would move faster so they could say their goodbyes and he could take his wife home, having fulfilled their obligation to come to this welcome home party thing.  
  
'I've had him. Three times.'  
  
Mr Jones' eyes widened as he stared at the younger man. He wasn't quite sure he knew what he was talking about or even if he'd heard properly.  
  
The young man let out a flamboyant groan.  
  
'And he's so good though, an amazing shag, he gave me probably the best blow job I've ever had.' He grinned widely and edged closer to Stuart's father. 'Taught me everything I know,' he continued, his smile turning flirtatious.  
  
Mr Jones' mouth dropped open. He glared at the young man.  
  
'Well, he wasn't known as the King of Canal Street for nothing. He's probably 'ad half the crowd here tonight. Of course - '  
  
'Stop.' Stuart's dad took a long deep breath. 'I am ... his ... _Father_.' He spoke quietly and clearly, his eyes fixed on the young man who gazed back, stupefied. Mr Jones carefully placed his glass down on the bar and pushed away through the crowds.

  
Vince, pleasantly drunk, waited for Stuart to return with top-ups. He smiled to himself in satisfaction. He was so pleased for Stuart that his parents had agreed to come out tonight, to this welcome home party he'd arranged. He hoped it would faciliate some sort of reconciliation between Stuart and his parents, to finally put all that bad feeling and misunderstanding behind them ...   
  
Suddenly Nathan's face appeared, interrupting Vince's reverie, a face filled with so much horror and embarrassment. He grabbed and clutched Vince's arms tightly.  
  
'Vince, Vince, Viiiiiince, oh my God, Vince!'  
  
Vince smiled and making a show of staring at Nathan's hands on his arms, he asked, 'You pissed?'  
  
Still gripping Vince hard, Nathan shouted into his face, 'Please, Vince, please, listen to me. Listen. I told Stuart's dad that Stuart had given me the best blow job I have ever had.' Vince stared at him, all the drink making him slow to process what he was hearing.  
  
'I told Stuart's dad that Stuart was an amazing shag! And that he'd had half the fellas here!' This last was said with rising hysteria in his voice.  
  
As Nathan spoke, a smile spread across Vince's face. He started to chuckle, he barked with laughter, he bent over double and then he laughed so hard tears filled his eyes. And then he laughed some more.  
  
'Stop laughing! It's not funny! What am I going to do? Stuart's gonna kill me.'  
  
'Why am I going to kill you? And what the fuck is wrong with _you_ , Vince?' Stuart appeared at his side. He smiled easily at Nathan.  
  
Nathan looked at Stuart's warm friendly face, blurted an apology and was gone, leaving Vince the task of revealing all to Stuart.

  
A little while later Vince popped out to pick up curry, leaving Stuart alone in the apartment. The silence was loud after all the noise of the club. He paced the apartment, finally picking up a dishcloth and aimlessly cleaning already clean surfaces. He and Vince had left promptly after Vince/Nathan's revelation, leaving Marie to explain to their mum that they'd gone. Stuart was bemused. A part of him thought the whole thing ridiculously funny, another part of him wanted to hang Nathan from the nearest tree but the biggest part of him was horrified. He found it difficult to imagine that his father's opinion of him could get any lower than it already was.  
  
A sharp knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He knew who it was. He sighed heavily. Opening the door and without greeting, he waved his father into the room.  
  
Mr Jones turned and looked at his son. Stuart gazed back at his father. Both were expressionless.  
  
'I don't think either of you should come round any more,' Mr Jones began without preamble.  
  
Stuart shrugged. 'Fine by me,' he said. 'But you won't see Alfie.'  
  
'I can see Alfie when Romey brings him over. But I don't want to see you or Vince.'  
  
'What's Vince done?' said Stuart, his voice rising. His 'couldn't give a shit' attitude evaporated with the mention of his boyfriend's name.  
  
Slowly and carefully, his father replied, 'You are both same. I am not happy with your type of people in my home.'  
  
'My type of people. And what type of people would they be ... Father?' He spat out the last word.  
  
'I was disgusted to hear ... details, of what you ... my son, my own son ... chooses to get up to. How can you have any pride in yourself when you do these things. You have a child!'  
  
'I am proud of myself. I have Vince. And I'm a good father to Alfie.'   
  
'But you are a man, Stuart. Men do not give other men ...' He stopped, unable to articulate the words,  
his face clouding with confusion.  
  
'Give other men what, Dad?' said Stuart. He feigned puzzlement as he waited for an answer.  
  
Mr Jones mouth tightened. He did not reply.  
  
'Blow jobs Dad?' Stuart shouted. 'Blow jobs? Sucking each other's cocks?'  
  
His father coloured. 'This is precisely why you are not welcome. You lose control of yourself, you are soiled, or, or, damaged in some way. Perhaps your mother and me didn't bring you up properly, I don't know, but you might be proud of yourself but I could not be more ashamed.'  
  
With these words he swept out of the apartment. He pushed past Vince, who'd just come back, without greeting or apology.  
  
Dumping the bag of curry and chips on the nearest chair, Vince touched Stuart's arm. Stuart's mouth twisted into a sneer as his eyes threatened to fill with tears.  
  
'Stuart?'  
  
'How much did you hear?'  
  
'I just heard something about sucking each other's cocks.' Vince smiled. Stuart knew Vince was trying to appeal to his smutty sense of humour but this time he could not find it in himself to give Vince an answering smirk.  
  
'He said I was damaged.' Stuart said at last. Ignoring the delicious smell from the late night curry, he turned and headed to the bedroom. He knew Vince wanted to help, wanted him to talk but he didn't think anything was going to soften the echo of his father's words.  
  
At the door Stuart looked back and smiled briefly.  
  
'I always knew it, Vince. From when I was a kid and begged Mr Daniels for a shag. I was twelve years old, Vince. What twelve year old does that?' And he disappeared into the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

  
Early the next morning, Vince found himself round Marie's, having been summoned to try and fix her DVD player. Vince didn't mind at all, he felt it might clear his head a bit. He and Stuart hadn't spoken much since last night. Stuart didn't come back out of the bedroom to eat his curry and Vince assumed he was asleep when he himself had gone to bed half an hour later. But he'd had been woken several times during the night by a restless Stuart with his murmuring and tossing and turning. Vince had held and cuddled him but nothing had been said.  
  
'Mum phoned. She told me about last night,' Marie said bluntly as she stood watching Vince crouching over the player.  
  
'Oh my God. I heard a bit of what they were saying. Stuart blames himself, I think, cuz of that fucking Mr Daniels.' It felt good to be able to talk to someone about it. And Marie, as Stuart's sister, might be able throw some light on Stuart and his parents' prickly and complicated relationship.  
  
'Oh Vince,' Marie crouched down next to him. She touched his arm and Vince looked at her in surprise. 'That bastard. All that blood. I still wish I'd said something, but,' she sighed heavily, 'I'm not much older than Stuart, I just didn't know what to do.'  
  
Vince stared without seeing at the wires going into the back of the DVD player. He slowly stood up. Frowning hard at Marie, still crouched on the floor, he said,  
  
'Blood. What blood?'

  
  
It was Saturday lunchtime and Stuart sat at the small dinner table waiting for lunch and waiting for Vince. They went round Hazel's most Saturdays (or it might be a Sunday, if they hadn't managed to get themselves out of bed the previous day). Hazel had promised stew, Vince's favourite, a dish he'd missed while off on his travels with Stuart. He watched Hazel fuss about in the kitchen, his one offer of help turned down with a typical Hazel insult.  
  
The back door slammed.  
  
'Vince! You trying to give me a heart attack? Kill me off? Trying to get your hands on all my money?' Hazel chuckled over her oft told joke as she removed a steaming pot from the oven with the same pair of filthy oven gloves that Stuart remembered from years ago.  
  
Vince ignored her and strode over to Stuart.  
  
'I've just been to Marie's,' he said, leaning over Stuart. 'Why didn't you tell me?'  
  
'Tell you what?' Stuart smiled at Vince. 'Fuck are you going on about?'  
  
Vince glowered at him.  
  
'Why didn't you tell me about Mr Daniels and ... what he did?' The last was said in a whisper, in a vain attempt to stop his his mother overhearing. Hazel paused and turned, her hearing as sharp as her son always remembered. She looked first at Vince and then at Stuart. And then to Vince's astonishment, Stuart laughed. He chuckled, gazing round the room and shaking his head.  
  
'I just never told you I went back for more. Is all.'  
  
'There's more to it than that.'  
  
Stuart looked into Vince's tired, worried face and he realised he was deadly serious. He sighed heavily and sat himself up straight and cleared his throat.  
  
'I went back for more,' Stuart said again. 'After ... the first time, I think it was the very next day, I turned up at his office again and he got angry and said he'd show me and then I wouldn't come back anymore. We were in the shower. Again. Perhaps that covered the sounds, I dunno.' Stuart paused and shrugged to himself. 'He got my kit off, we were on the shower floor, all slippery, and he just put his fucking great ...' Stuart quickly glanced at Hazel, 'cock in me, and, y'know, fuck it, it really hurt, I don't remember any fucking lube and I couldn't get a grip on anything, cuz I was sprawled in the shower tray so I just had to take it. I hardly remember this bit, only that it fucking hurt and then he finished after what seemed like, I dunno, an hour and then he just told me to fuck off.' Stuart paused for a moment. 'I remember trying to get my trousers on and I couldn't cos my legs were trembling so much. Anyway that was that.' Stuart cleared his throat and sat back in his chair. 'Hazel, when's this food ready?' he added, flashing her a dazzling smile.  
  
Vince and Hazel stared at him. The only sound was the faint hum of telly upstairs in Bernie's room.  
  
'Anyway,' Stuart continued, matter-of-factly, 'Marie was good about it. When I got home, I had to creep in because my trousers and boxers were wet.' He grimaced. 'Blood all over them. She helped me rinse them through and dry them and iron them, so Ma wouldn't see, cuz of course, I only had one pair of fucking school trousers, can you believe that?' Stuart chuckled. 'So that's it. No nasty diseases, my arse soon healed and as you very well know Vince, it's in fine working order.'  
  
Vince slumped into the chair opposite Stuart. He said nothing as his mother put a steaming plate of stew and dumplings in front of him. He stared at his food and forked a piece into his mouth.  
  
'Vince?' Stuart said, brightly, dipping his head, trying to see Vince's reaction to what he'd just told him. 'I'm fine.'  
  
'Okay,' said Vince, his eyes shiny with tightly held back tears. He looked up and gave Stuart a quick smile before concentrating on getting Hazel's stew eaten. Stuart took his hand and squeezed it tightly before continuing with his own food.  
  
The two men ate in silence, Hazel having left the room on the premise of many of tasks needing to be done upstairs. Neither man believed her excuse. Stuart glanced up regularly from his untasted food to look at Vince but Vince's eyes were cast down, apparently intent on eating, not talking.  
  
Having successfully managed to bolt most of the food down, Vince got up and, like his mother, made his own excuse of things to do and quickly left before Stuart could stop him or question him further.  
  
'Leave him. He's got a lot to think about,' said Hazel coming back into the room as Vince left. 'What with your Dad and now this.'  
  
'But I'm fine, Hazel, really I am, he doesn't need to be worrying about me.' He pushed away his plate and stood up, feeling stiff and weary from his restless sleep the previous night.  
  
Hazel wrapped her arms around him in a tight bear hug. Stuart's nose was assaulted by perfume: to him, it was one of the most comforting smells in the world. Pulling back, she cupped his face with warm hands.  
  
'Stuart, I know you're fine and I understand you not telling your ma and pa - that would be almost as frightening as anything Mr Daniels could do, but you should've told Vince about it.'  
  
Stuart pulled her back into a hug and buried his face in her shocking copper hair in response.

  
  
Vince took a deep breath. As he was eating his lunch, he realised he had to do something. And so he found himself here, just standing and staring down at his feet, then gazing at a pot of pansies in the doorway, then studying his reflection in the highly polished door knocker. At last, lifting his head and gathering up all the courage he could find, he tapped on the door.  
  
It was opened almost immediately by Mrs Jones.  
  
'I want to see Mr Jones,' Vince began without greeting. Without answering, she stood back and allowed Vince to come in. He followed Stuart's mum down the hall, a hall as unfamiliar to him as Hazel's was familiar to Stuart. Mr Jones was seated at the dining table poring over some paper work as Vince entered and was directed to the settee. He refused the invitation to sit down.  
  
'Mr Jones,' Vince began. He had considered the idea of calling him 'Sir' but decided against it. 'I'm here about Stuart.'  
  
There was a silence as Stuart's dad continued to write. He started using a calculator. And then he stapled some paper together. All the time not acknowledging the fact he was being spoken to.  
  
Finally he spoke. 'I think I've said all that's to be said about Stuart. And about you. I'd really like you to leave my house now.' Mr Jones' face had not changed its implacable expression since his arrival. Vince twisted his hands, both slippery with sweat. Stuart's dad had always been someone who made him feel inferior and he felt the chance of success in this particular encounter with him was fast disappearing.  
  
He gazed down at the coffee table in front of him, staring blankly at a plain brown stoppered vase and a copy of the ' _Daily Mail_ ' folded neatly next to it. Lifting his head up and taking a deep breath, he started again. 'Stuart is ... the love of my life. He looks out for me and I don't mean financially. He looks after his son, _really_ looks after him, changes his nappy and everything. He IS an arsehole - ' Vince immediately winced at his use of the word 'arsehole', inappropriate under the circumstances, 'but he looks after people, he -'  
  
'I don't want to hear any more,' said Mr Jones, simply.  
  
'He looks after you!' said Vince, his voice rising. 'He bought this carpet. And who bought your table? He helps my mother out though she and he think I don't know about it.'  
  
'So what? He's made a lot of money from doing not very much,' Mr Jones looked up for the first time. 'He hardly ever comes round. He didn't tell us he was ... homosexual until a few months ago and told us in such a manner of high drama ...'  
  
Vince felt a tightening in his chest. His fists clenched. If he thought he had himself under control, it was fast slipping away from him.  
   
'He was upset with his nephew.'  
  
Stuart's dad raised his eyebrow.  
  
'We don't really know what went on there, do we Vince?'  
  
Vince blinked. He could feel his heart thudding and his self control finally deserted him. All the excitement and upset of the last couple of days closed in on him.  
  
'Shut UP!' he shouted. He grabbed the brown stoppered vase and to his astonishment, he flung it across the room. Even as he lost control, he still found himself rationally thinking he should just aim for the back wall and not at Stuart's dad. Though another thought swiftly popped into his head - _he was throwing objects about in Stuart's parents' house!_ Everything seemed to slow down, slide into slow motion ... Mr Jones' mouth opening and closing, until it formed a perfect O to match the widening of his eyes; Mrs Jones a mirror image of her husband; the three of them following the movement of the vase on its journey across the room, which at last smashed with shocking finality against the far wall. And to Vince's even greater astonishment, when the vase exploded, it released a thick cloud of black and grey dust ...

  
  
'YOU DID WHAT?!' Stuart stared at Vince with an uncannily similar expression to his Dad's an hour earlier. 'You smashed the urn? Vince! That was Uncle Ernie's urn!'  
  
After he left the Jones', Vince took off straight for Canal Street, desperate for a drink, any drink, the stronger the drink the better. Inside the pub, he found his mother, Alex and Stuart and seeing them all gathered there he didn't know if he wanted to laugh, cry or leave the country.  
  
Vince sat down heavily and sheepishly gave them a summary of the events of earlier. His mother and Alex became helpless with laughter.  
  
'Why were you there?' said Stuart. He was smiling but he wasn't joining in the laughter.  
  
'I wanted to talk to him about what he said to you.'  
  
Under Stuart's penetrating gaze, Vince felt his face heat up and he felt compelled to continue.  
  
'And I was going to tell them about what happened to you.'  
  
'So what did you actually say?' Stuart's voice went dangerously quiet.  
  
'Well, I was just telling them what you're like and your Dad said something stupid and I just ... threw the vase, um, urn.'  
  
'And then?'  
  
Vince looked up from ringing his hands in his lap. 'I cleaned it all up, all the mess.'  
  
'You got angry, you started throwing things, an urn of ashes no less, and then ... you cleaned it all up?'  
  
'I cleaned it up because I thought it was the right thing to do.'  
  
'Did you tell them any more?' asked Stuart carefully. Vince was astute enough to realise it was this 'any more' part which worried Stuart.  
  
Vince slowly shook his head. 'I couldn't. I couldn't tell them about something they now can't do anything about. It'd be cruel. They're fucked up Stuart, but your parents don't deserve that. They don't even know it but they're as fucked up as you are, as I am. And your Dad can no more change his thinking than you could manage keeping your cock in your pants. But he should keep his love for his own son separate from what he thinks about homosexuality.'  
  
Stuart reached for Vince and pulled him into his arms. He nuzzled his face into Vince's soft spiky hair and for the second time that day, he was lost in the warmth and comfort of another person.  
  
'You are a monumental twat,' he stated matter-of-factly into Vince's ear.  
  
'Well. If Vince has finished his sermon, we'll have another round. On Vince I think,' said Hazel.

  
Two days later, Mr Jones pulled a book from his bookcase. As he made to open it, he frowned and squinted at its edge. Shaking his head and with a hint of a smile, he blew on it and rubbed away some remaining dust.  
  
'Still finding it,' he said, turning to Stuart's mother who was watching TV.  
  
'I'll still be hoovering it up this time next year,' she said in agreement. 'I still can't believe he stayed and cleaned it up. And he actually did a pretty good job, considering.'  
  
Mrs Jones glanced over at her husband. 'He's a good person, you only have to look at the way he defended Stuart. And I don't believe he was lying, Clive.' She paused. 'I think we should give Stuart another go.'  
  
'But he's a-'  
  
'Yes, he's a homosexual and your daughter's a divorcee and your grandson blackmails people,' Mrs Jones shrugged. 'None of them paying much attention to the teachings of the Roman Catholic Church.' She smiled. Despite being shocked at the schoolboy Nathan turning up at Hazel's, she was convinced now that that whole thing had just been a one off. And she and Marie had never taken Thomas's accusations of his uncle very seriously. His whole story had fallen apart under questioning when it became apparent the boys' time with Stuart consisted mostly of eating chips and chocolate and watching TV. 'But they're ours, Clive, our family, our kids, the only ones we're going to have-'  
  
'But he's promiscuous.' Mr Jones' mouth curled in distaste.  
  
Stuart's mother sighed. 'He's not now apparently and I believe Vince. And Vince definitely has the sort of face that would scream 'I am lying' if he ever said anything remotely untrue.'  
  
Mr Jones pursed his lips in thought. 'I guess at least we don't have to work out what we're going to do with that bloody urn now.'

  
Two weeks later, Stuart found himself seated at his parents' house which was a cacophony of clunking cutlery, scraping chairs and loud talk. His father had come by his office two days earlier. He hadn't known about this fact until after. His secretary had informed Mr Jones that he was in a meeting and his Dad had left a message; before he left however, she'd made sure he had a thorough understanding about the nature of the work Stuart was doing - pro bono work for a local cancer charity. His secretary knew a little of the difficulties Stuart had had with his family and Stuart had thanked her for her quick thinking - that work had actually been done eighteen months earlier ...  
  
Vince was sitting opposite him and had drunk a couple of white wines, the result of which meant he was finding Stuart's mum's bread sauce very amusing.  
  
'Oh my God Stuart! It looks just like jiz!' he whispered loudly as he peered into the jug and giggled at his own observation.  
  
Stuart smiled back at him, sighed and replied fondly. 'Bread sauce has lumps in it, you twat. If you remember Vince, when we last looked, my jiz most certainly did NOT have lumps.'  
  
Sat to his right, his sister Marie frowned at him, shaking her head in amusement and looking pointedly across at her two boys. His mother was at the head of the table next to him, perched on a stool because, as ever, there weren't enough chairs for everyone. His dad sat at the other end, quietly discussing Man City's latest game with Thomas. And toddler Alfie sat between Stuart and his mother merrily banging a plastic spoon into a bowl of veg and potato mush. He was also gurgling at Vince, looking like he too appreciated Vince's bread sauce observations. Stuart gazed around the table, a smile playing around his mouth. He caught Vince's eye. Vince understood and warmly placed a hand over his.  
  
'Twat,' Stuart whispered, awkward as ever with romantic displays of affection in public and was rewarded with the sight of Vince producing, to Stuart anyway, quite an astonishingly erotic display of putting a brussel sprout into his mouth. 

  
  
The wind gave the mild afternoon air a chilly nip. In the greenhouse, which was only fractionally warmer, Stuart bent over a tray of seedlings, carefully pricking each one out with tweezers. His father watched him, studying that familiar profile and those mussy curls. He didn't have to watch what Stuart was doing with his seedlings; his son had been helping him on and off for years in his garden and Stuart knew what he was doing. And something warm was beginning to fill Mr Jones' chest as more and more seedlings came out intact and ready for bigger pots.  
  
'Stuart.'  
  
Stuart straightened. 'Are there any more trays or are the rest for next month?'  
  
'Stuart, look at me.'  
  
Putting the tweezers down, Stuart suppressed a sigh. He turned to face his father.  
  
'Stuart.' Mr Jones stared down at his hands before looking directly at his son, 'Look, I'm ... sorry. It was wrong to call you damaged. It was ... I shouldn't have said it. I didn't mean it actually.' He smiled awkwardly and looked down at his muddy feet. Looking up again, he suddenly grabbed Stuart into his arms. He held him tightly. Eyes wide in astonishment, Stuart slowly brought his arms around his Dad in response.  
  
'Stuart, it's how I was brought up, the Catholic upbringing,' Mr Jones said quietly into Stuart's hair. 'I had it drummed into me, it's hard to think beyond it. Can you understand that?'  
  
Stuart nodded, furiously blinking away tears. The two men pulled apart and both looked everywhere else than look at each other. Until Stuart inadvertently caught his Dad's eye and a small smile of recognition flashed between them.  
  
'So did you want help with planting this rose bush ...'

  
  
Back in the kitchen, Stuart and Vince were sharing the task of washing and drying up. Giggling like school kids, Stuart flicked bubbles at Vince and Vince was responding by trying to whip Stuart's arse with the tee towel.  
  
'Just you wait until I do this to your bare arse, Stuart Alan Jones.'  
  
'Oooh I'm looking forward to it, Vince Tyler.'  
  
Stuart flashed a flirtatious smile at Vince. He felt extraordinarily calm and settled since his talk with his dad in the greenhouse earlier. He hadn't realised how tense he'd been since the welcome home party or how much the word 'damaged' had affected him. After all, as many would point out to him, he was insulted quite often.  
  
'Stuart.' A voice interrupted their play and his thoughts. Standing in the doorway was Marie and her son, Thomas. She had her arm around the boy and both mother and son looked nervous and apprehensive.  
  
'Thomas has something to say to you,' Marie said carefully. She squeezed his shoulder and left the room.  
  
Seeing his mother disappear, Thomas promptly looked down at his feet.  
  
'Thomas?' said Stuart, drying his hands as he approached the boy.  
  
Looking up and bravely gazing at Stuart's serious face, he said,  
  
'Uncle Stuart. I just wanted to say ... sorry for what I said about you. It's nice you give us fish and chips and pocket money and stuff and I'm sorry I told the lie ... about you.' The boy coloured hotly as he spoke and he went back to gazing intently down at his socks.  
  
Stuart glanced at Vince who looked sternly back at Thomas. Crouching down to look into his face and taking his hands, he replied,  
  
'Thomas, you know you must never make up lies about something like that don't you? Cuz people will believe you. It's too important a thing to be fibbing about just to get a bit of cash. Words can hurt. You won't do anything like that again will you?'  
  
Thomas shook his head and gave Stuart a shy smile. Stuart grabbed him and gave him a quick bear hug.  
  
'Good. Now yer can fuck off.'  
  
Thomas smiled widened as he turned to go.  
  
'And remember to bring back that Doctor Who DVD, yer little thief!'  
  
An hour later, everyone was sat in front of the telly with Vince trying to maintain a sensible conversation with Mrs Jones about a cleaning catalogue which had just popped through the door. Half asleep, his head on Vince's shoulder, Stuart was whispering in his ear.  
  
'Take me home Vince.'  
  
'Yes, they're quite good for cleaning kitchen floors.'  
  
'I've had enough now.'  
  
'It's an amazing duster, picks up _everything_.'  
  
'Fuck the duster, Vince, fuck me.'  
  
'Yes I'll love to have a look at it but we really ought to go now, Mrs Jones.'  
  
'Yippee, fuck meeee!'  
  
Vince stood up causing Stuart to slump unceremoniously into the spot he'd just vacated. Stuart responded by smiling up at Vince, that devastating smile that made Vince want to rip off all his clothes and fuck him there and then, family watching or not.  
  
Suddenly finding energy, Stuart jumped up and slid his jacket on. Goodbyes were said and details were confirmed about Alfie's overnight stay with his parents. As they began to leave, Stuart turned back to face his family still sitting around the TV.  
  
'Thanks,' he said awkwardly. 'For today.'  
  
His family nodded awkwardly in response.  
  
  
  
Vince drove the jeep as fast as was legal and as well as could be hoped for with an unseat-belted Stuart leaning down into his lap, kissing hot breaths onto his cock through his trousers. Untucking and unbuttoning his shirt and ignoring Vince's half hearted pleas to stop, Stuart licked his stomach at that sensitive, quivery bit below his belly button. Finally, with the jeep parked, _badly_ parked, as Stuart took a second to notice, the two men made a dash for their apartment.  
  
By the time they reached their bedroom, clothes came off easily as buttons and zips had already been undone in the jeep and the lift. But on the bed the pace slowed. Vince, on top, took his time kissing Stuart, relishing the feel of his hot mouth, his tongue dipping inside, tracing wet lines over his lips. All the time, Stuart was reaching up, desperate for more, being thoroughly punished for his earlier teasing. Vince sat back and opened Stuart's legs. He opened them wide, smiling at Stuart, recognising the pleasure Stuart took from being spread open for his, Vince's, pleasure. Taking all the time in the world, he smeared lube onto his finger as his lover, impatient as ever, began to glare up at him. At last, Vince circled his hole, getting it slippery before pushing a finger inside.  
  
He moved with care, slowly sliding his finger in and out of him, sending shivery sparks up and down Stuart's back.  
  
'Viiiince ...' said Stuart finally, impatience tipping towards desperation.  
  
'I don't want to hurt you.'  
  
'Vince,' Stuart groaned, arching his back, 'Vince I ...'  
  
'But doesn't it hurt? Doesn't it remind you of ... it?'  
  
'Vince, you're reminding me of it. Now if you don't ...'  
  
Vince slipped his finger out and coated two other fingers liberally with lube. He pushed Stuart's knees back and carefully worked them into him.  
  
Stuart rocked his hips in time with Vince's fingers with gasps and smiles of pleasure.  
  
'Okay please Vince, now ... '  
  
'Are you sure?'  
  
'Vince, fuck!' Stuart gasped. 'I want it because it's you.' He took a deep breath. 'And I will actually kill you if you don't ...'  
  
Vince pulled his fingers out and frowned at Stuart who growled with frustration.  
  
'But didn't it affect you Stuart?' Vince's face was clouded with confusion. 'Didn't it upset you?'  
  
Stuart leant up on his elbows and sighed. The worry on Vince's face halted any further snarky comments that had threatened to burst forth.  
  
'No, cuz I realised later it probably didn't go on for all that long.' Stuart stroked the side of Vince's face, all warm, damp and with that sexy hint of stubble that he loved. 'True, he should've used lube,' he continued, 'and I was worried for a couple of years about the state of my arse and true he's a fucking peado and if I found out he'd done it to one of my own kids, I would've torn his cock off, but ... I'm okay, Vince, really ...' He smiled and as Vince began to smile in response, he went on, 'And it was an experience. The first time was fucking brilliant and I can't _not_ think that. The second time was shit but ... I'm okay.' Stuart pulled him down gently and kissed him. 'Okay?'  
  
Vince nodded and smiled. Without saying a word, he again slid a finger inside Stuart, hitting just that spot that would make him arch and writhe and purr with pleasure.  
  
'Stuart?'  
  
'What?' gasped Stuart.  
  
'Who is Uncle Ernie?'  
  
'Vincccce, if you weren't so fucking hot at sex I'd say you were really totally fucking shit at it.'  
  
'Stuart, but you've never mentioned an Uncle Ernie-'  
  
'Fucking twat, if you don't shut up, I _will_ cut out your tongue!'  
  
Vince grinned smugly at an empty threat made by a desperate man.  
  
'Now Stuart,' he said flirtatiously, 'you don't really mean that do you?'  
  
And with that he slid gracefully down Stuart's body and took his cock into his mouth. With two fingers back inside, plunging sensuously in and out and sucking wetly and noisily on his cock, within a minute, Stuart exploded, gasping and shouting, into his mouth. With no more stopping or questions and taking advantage of how relaxed he knew Stuart would be, he pushed his cock firmly into him. Stuart pulled him down, clutching him as he got comfortable with the heavy feeling of fullness. He held Vince, nuzzling his face into his hair and breathing hotly in his ear. He moved his hips in time with Vince's who was fast losing any attempt at making it last. And finally Stuart held him as the familiar surge of pleasure gripped and swept through Vince's body, leaving the two men panting, sweating and sprawled all over each other. As Vince gently pulled apart from him, he smiled back at Stuart's wide grin - that smirk of satisfaction Stuart reserved just for him, his Vince - his best friend and boyfriend.

  
 **Epilogue**    
  
Driving home from work one evening, Stuart squinted at a figure walking along the pavement in the late afternoon dusk. He slowed the Jeep and rolled down his window.  
  
'Oi! Nathan! Come 'ere! I wanna talk to you,' Stuart shouted at the figure.  
  
Nathan turned, eyes widening. Then, gaze quickly averted, he made a rapid turn down a footpath and out of sight.  
  
Stuart grinned to himself. 'Another time, Nathan, another time ...'  
  
  
  
 


End file.
